


The Showgirl & the Pit Boss

by vivilove



Series: Career Day Romance [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vegas, Attempt at Humor, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Light Angst, Workplace Relationship, poor decision making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon Targaryen and Sansa Stark have been working at the same Las Vegas Casino for a couple of months.  They have an unexpected night of passion and, after having too much to drink, make a rash decision.  Will their friendship and budding romance survive it?





	1. What Did We Do Last Night?

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a three chapter fic in my Career Series.

_‘Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard_

_We can go_

_No one will know_

_Oh, come on, girl,_

_Who cares if we’re trashed_

_Got a pocket full of cash_

_We can blow_

_Shots of Patrón_

_And it’s on, girl’_

 

 

The first thing Jon Targaryen was aware of was how ungodly bright it was. The morning sunshine was flooding the room with light from the curtains that weren’t completely closed. _Oh, my head_. Then, he realized he was not in his own bed. _The fuck?_ Finally, he was aware of the blood-shot blue eyes staring confusedly at him from a cloud of red hair on the pillow next to his. _Sansa…oh shit_.

“Jon…” she croaked, her voice husky in her groggy and dehydrated state.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Jon gave a sheepish, “Uh, hi...”

“Bathroom!” she squeaked then with urgency.

He gestured feebly towards the doorway to the bathroom. His chest felt a bit tight and there was this panicky thing in his belly that he couldn’t exactly explain. She scurried across the room wearing nothing but his shirt she’d put on right before they’d finally fallen asleep. He groaned remembering the way he’d kissed her good night and spooned her up to his chest. She smelled so good.

Jon sat up and hissed when he felt the skin on his back contract with the scratch marks she’d left there. He lifted the sheet to confirm what he already suspected. He was completely naked. He could hear her vomiting on the other side of the door. _Poor girl_. He surveyed the hotel room. _A suite. How’d we end up here?_ He collapsed back into the standard (and uncomfortable) hotel pillow trying to recall the night.

He remembered fucking her in the backseat of his car after they’d left their casino very clearly. That was when she’d left the marks. He laid there in the bed, enjoying the memory for a moment, idling stroking his cock as he thought of Sansa astride him, riding him with her black mini-dress pushed up to her hips. He’d already claimed her panties earlier in the dressing room and he’d tucked them in his pocket for safe-keeping.

Sansa had unbuttoned his dress-shirt nearly to his navel as they kissed in his backseat as though they might perish if they didn’t taste each other’s tonsils that instant. She’d lightly scraped her perfectly manicured nails up and over his shoulders and half way down his back, causing goosebumps to appear and making him shiver in excitement. He’d wanted to lick and suck her tits while she rode him but her dress was tight and they weren’t drunk enough then to take all their clothes off in a car, so he’d contented himself with squeezing her ass and sucking on her neck while they panted and moaned and fucked liked they were both animals in heat.

_Actually, we weren’t drunk at all. We’d not had anything to drink yet_. Somehow that caused some of the fluttery nervousness in his belly to ease a bit. _She wanted me before we_ _got drunk. She_ had _me before we got drunk. ‘Had you?’ Who are you kidding? She’s_ had _you wrapped around her finger for a while now_.

The car sex was fucking hot…and that was after she’d surprised him in the breakroom. _And after I ran off Joffrey…stupid, little shit_. He moaned quietly as he recalled what had happened in the breakroom. Sansa on her knees looking up at him from beneath her lashes while he carded his hands through her soft, silky hair. Sansa sucking his cock while he whimpered and came faster than a fifteen-year-old. _Jesus Fucking Christ…but her mouth was so hot and wet while staring up at me with those big blue eyes, I couldn’t help_ _it._

His hand became a bit less idle and started moving more earnestly up and down with that memory as he heard the shower turn on in the bathroom. _Why are you laying her fisting_ _your cock? You could go in there and join her_. He shook his head and decided to stay put. Last night was amazing but she’d just been sick and he had no idea how she was feeling about any of this now. They could talk when she came out…and he didn’t want to come off as pushy.

So, he went back to the memory of the car. When he started talking dirty, saying filthy things in her ear about her riding him and how gorgeous she was and how beautiful her body was, she’d liked that. Then, he’d told her how he’d been dreaming about her for weeks and longing to have her like this. She had liked that a lot and had come soon after while screaming his name and raking her nails across his back. _A little pain, a little blood…a very small price to pay_.

_We weren’t drunk then_ , he thought again with a smile. _But then what happened?_ His hand stopped pumping his cock. There was something he was forgetting…something that seemed important. _Where the fuck are we? And where did we go between the car and here?_ This wasn’t a room at their casino’s hotel and Jon focused on trying to replay the rest of the night despite the fog of his hangover.

_We drove to the Bellagio after we finished in the car. Sansa and I played craps. She won…big. And we had a few to celebrate. I walked her to the bar, keeping my hands on her hips and kissing her all the way there. I…ah, shit…that’s right. I told her I loved her and she…giggled. Christ…she laughed, Targaryen. It seemed cute at the time but maybe she was letting me know she wasn’t interested in anything more than… Okay, don’t go there right now. Focus…what happened next? Then, we nearly got thrown out when I started trying to hump her in the booth. Oh, fucking hell…at least we weren’t at work then or we’d probably both be out of a job. I told her rather bluntly I wanted to see her completely naked and fuck her all night long. Such a charmer, Jon. She smiled though and said we should go to my place. We were both doing shots. We did too many shots. I called for an uber. I wanted to take her home with me but instead we started talking about all the things the tourists like to do. And then we decided to…we went to…to the…OH, HOLY FUCKING SHIT!_

“Shit! Oh, shit…OH, HOLY FUCKING SHIT! SANSA!” he shouted, clutching his chest and wincing at the loudness of his own voice. His throat was scratchy and raw. That dull, fluttery sense of panic from earlier was a full-fledged panic attack in the making now, rising up like a tidal wave to choke him.

“What?!” she whined coming back out of the bathroom freshly showered with his shirt pulled back over her body. “Why are you yelling? My head is already splitting.”

He couldn’t answer right away. He was stunned into silence. She was so fucking beautiful. Even with her wet hair a mess and her tired eyes, she was a beauty. His shirt was clinging to her still damp body and not buttoned up. He glanced at the swell of her breasts peeking out from the shirt and the triangle of red hair he could see and felt his cock twitch.

He’d dreamed of her for weeks now and last night he’d had her. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure how many times he’d had her once they got here last night. He was so dizzy and drunk on Sansa last night…high as a kite on Sansa. Absolutely 100% crazy in love with Sansa Stark. And, they’d got drunk and…

He remembered her intoxicated giggles in the backseat of the uber. She was singing Elvis for him and the driver in a sultry contralto. That’s when he’d made his suggestion.

“When do you have to be at work?” she asked searching the suite for her dress and presumably the underwear he never planned to return no matter what happened from here on out.

“Sansa…do you remember last night?” he asked, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

“Uh…yeah, Jon,” she said with a blush.

“All of it?” he prompted.

“Which parts did you have in mind?” she smirked. “Where you ate me out in the dressing room knowing full well that any of the other girls could’ve walked in on us? Or maybe when I sucked your cock in the breakroom? Or how about…”

“How about where we went to the Graceland Wedding Chapel?” he said in a rush. _Just like pulling off a band-aid, Jon. Just rip it right off._

“The Graceland Wedding…OH, HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!” she screamed.


	2. Before The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the chapter title says...Jon and Sansa before they woke up married!
> 
> Brief, minor violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got LONG but I wanted to write some back story, them meeting, becoming friends, etc. And just in case anyone is uncertain, Jon is not in any way Sansa's supervisor. He runs the casino floor. The showgirls have different bosses and wouldn't answer to him. Hope you'll enjoy.

_‘Wise men say only fools rush in_

_But I can’t help falling in love with you’_

 

**Seven Weeks Earlier**

 

Jon Targaryen was originally from Upstate New York and had worked at The Golden Lion Casino for nearly two years. He’d come out to be a dealer at the Lannister family’s Vegas casino after working for them in Atlantic City for about a year. Tywin Lannister was still the top boss but he let two of his kids run his respective casinos. Jon liked working in Sin City much better than Jersey even if the heat was brutal at times. And, Tyrion was a breeze to work for compared to Cersei. _Much, much better than Cersei_.

He’d finished up his Hospitality Management degree once he got out here and proceeded to climb on up the ranks. He enjoyed his job and he had a nice two-bedroom place now not too far from the Strip. He was knocking down much better money now. He’d been promoted to head floor supervisor four months ago but people still liked to call him by the old-fashioned title of pit boss.

“Good evening, ladies,” Jon called out to the showgirls in their glittery costumes and heels on his way back from his smoke break to the casino floor. “You all look fantastic tonight,” he said as they passed.

Several laughed or winked at him but a few scoffed at him as usual. It didn’t matter. He just meant to be friendly but he knew some took it the other way. His mother had raised him to be gentlemanly though so he was just naturally courteous to others…which probably helped in a job like his. He could also defuse tense situations most of the time and stand up for himself and others well enough when forced…which also helped in a job like his.

“Hello,” a red-head with the incredibly long legs replied.

Jon froze in his tracks. _Whoa…not seen her before_. “Hello, I’m Jon Targaryen,” he said, extending his hand and a smile.

“I’m Sansa Stark,” she said, partially amused as he looked her up and down with wide eyes before he caught himself. _Easy, Targaryen. Don’t come off as a fucking creep_.

“You must be new here. How are you liking The Lion, Sansa?” he asked with a more genuine and friendly (and hopefully less please-fuck-me-and-make-my-year) kind of smile.

“It’s alright,” she said. There was something a bit off with her tone though…like maybe it wasn’t alright. “I started last week but tonight’s my first show,” she finished nervously.

 _Ah…first night jitters_. “You done this sort of thing before?” he asked, figuring the answer was ‘no.’

“No,” she responded with a roll of her eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe a bit. You just seem nervous is all.”

“I’ve been in dance since I was five but I’ve never been a showgirl before…or anything like this. And this costume…” she said gesturing at the scraps of sequins covering her wrists, tits and ass with a nude-colored mesh making a leotard out of it all. “Well, I just hope my folks don’t ever come down to see me.”

“You’ll do great, I’m sure. There’s no reason to feel any shame about it. You’re a professional dancer.”

“A professional dancer shaking her ass in a skimpy costume,” she smirked.

He laughed at that and said, “Well, the costumes are a bit revealing but not as revealing as many of the swimsuits I see out by the pool.”

“That’s true,” she said, apparently pleased by his comparison. “So, are you one of the dealers?”

“No, I’m the floor supervisor,” he responded.

“Oh…the pit boss, huh? The other girls said you were cute. I see they weren’t lying,” she said with a blush that brought a lovely rosy hue to her cheeks.

Jon grinned right back at her but he wouldn’t let it go to his head. She was drop-dead gorgeous and was no doubt used to having men eating out of the palm of her hand with no more effort than it’d take to bat those lovely blue eyes at them.

The other girls were admonishing her to hurry along for their show. “Good luck tonight,” he said with a wave as he started to walk on. “Or, break a leg,” he called over his shoulder as she headed off in the other direction to catch up with her companions.

“Or just shake my ass, right?” He caught her teasing grin. _Yeah…I’d definitely enjoy watching that_ , he thought taking a last, long look over his shoulder at the derrière in question. “I see you looking, Targaryen,” she laughed causing the other girls to laugh with her.

Jon couldn’t help but blush at that and he nodded to her once more before heading on his way again.

 

* * *

 

 

No, this wasn’t quite what Sansa Stark had dreamed of when she’d taken all those years of dance lessons as a kid, or all the choreography classes later on. She’d always wanted to be a dancer. She just didn’t expect that shaking her tits and ass to old show tunes while wearing feathers would be part of that.

She’d wanted to be a professional ballerina for as long as she could remember but gigs like that weren’t exactly a dime a dozen in Provo, Utah. She’d tried out for the Salt Lake City Ballet and had a small part in “The Nutcracker” last year but she’d not been invited to join the company full time. Spots like that weren’t easy to come by anyway so she’d accepted that maybe working in a studio teaching dance or as a choreographer would likely be necessary.

As the months passed since graduating with her fine arts degree with nothing permanent panning out though, Sansa started to doubt herself…and lower her expectations of what she might achieve with her degree. Her parents had not been enthusiastic about her choice of major and it had been a sore spot between them at times. She was starting to see that maybe a degree in something more practical might’ve made sense but she wasn’t ready to admit it to them. They loved her all the same and wished her well when she said she was accepting a teaching position at a studio in Las Vegas. A few weeks of teaching five-year-olds the basics of ballet had not scared her off and she found that maybe she could be content with teaching dance. _Who am I kidding? I’d be happy teaching old folks to do the Macarena at weddings for the rest of my life if it means I can dance for a living_.

But then, the studio had gone belly-up and Sansa found herself in Vegas with rent she could no longer afford and with the unenviable prospect of having to call on Mom and Dad to bail her out of looming debt. She could almost hear the lecture she’d get about settling down and finding a safe, secure job somewhere and giving up these pipe dreams.

Then, Alayaya, who’d worked at the studio part-time with her, suggested she try being a showgirl. Yaya had done it for a couple of years now and said it was decent money and fun. She and another showgirl named Ros even offered to take Sansa on as a roommate so they could split the rent and ride share. She’d agreed to their offer at once. _Could be worse, Sansa._

This was certainly true. The costumes, while over the top with sequins or feathers or fringe, covered all the same parts as a swimsuit would at least just as Jon Targaryen had said that first night she performed. There was no striping involved and the showgirls were treated with respect at The Golden Lion. That didn’t mean that there weren’t occasional guys that equated showgirl with call girl or freaks that became a wee bit obsessed with a dancer but Tyrion’s men, Bronn and Sandor, stuck close by the dressing room and walked the girls out at night to keep any weirdos or presumptuous shits from getting too close.

Maybe this wasn’t something she’d want to do for years and years but she was only twenty-two and figured it wouldn’t hurt to spread her wings and try something different rather than running home to her parents. And, it had sounded glamourous. Didn’t take too long to figure out that it wasn’t really. Okay, to be fair…she enjoyed getting to dance for a living at least.

The pay wasn’t great for an inexperienced dancer so she was grateful to share the place with Yaya and Ros. Sansa picked up a side job teaching aerobics at a local gym for a little extra cash. She’d also been hitting up the local dance studios hoping they might need an instructor. Her feet hurt from the heels but that wasn’t anything new to Sansa. Doing years of pointe ballet had built up quite a pain tolerance there.

Despite the fact it wasn’t exactly her dream job, there was one part of working at The Golden Lion that Sansa didn’t have any complaints about…and that was Jon Targaryen. His dark curls, deep, husky voice and those soulful eyes were more than enough to get her attention but the teasing, taunting way they bantered (alright, they flirted) made her look forward to work every night.

“What’s shaking, Stark? Besides that sweet ass of yours?” he asked as she passed by the breakroom in her four inch heels and four foot high headdress.

“Not much, Targaryen. You been roughing up the elderly tonight?”

He held up his hands with a mock-wounded expression and said, “Hey, that guy was completely out of control. And I resent the implication as I did not rough him up. I merely escorted him off the casino floor. It’s called guest management, Stark. It’s all about the finesse, the charm, the…”

“Sandor said you made him cry.”

“Sandor’s the one that makes them cry!” he pleaded, making her giggle. _Yeah, okay…I giggled there…so sue me_. “They’re usually too busy cursing me and trying to kick me in the shins,” he finished, furrowing his brow in a delightfully adorable manner. He smiled up at her next and playfully flicked a feather from her shoulder than had come loose. He was a few inches shorter when she wore her heels but he didn’t seem intimidated or put off by that as some guys she’d known had been. “So, when are you on?” he asked.

“Just finished a show. I’ve got another in an hour.”

“Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me after hours?” he asked in a decidedly less-cocky and shyer tone than usual.

She smiled to see the way he had shoved his hands in his pockets and was suddenly studying his loafers intently. Sansa wasn’t going to read too much into that though…not yet anyway.

“Yeah…alright,” she said, feeling a bit dazed with a flush creeping up her throat when he looked back up at her with a radiant smile. _Get a grip, Sansa_.

It’d been awhile since she’d dated anyone. She’d actually spent the final year of school hopelessly in love with Loras Tyrell, one of her classmates. Yes, everyone and their brother (or his sister in this case) had told her he wasn’t interested in women but they’d performed together so beautifully in their university’s production of “Swan Lake” and he’d given her red roses opening night. She was so certain that it had meant something. Well, she knew better now anyway. Jon wasn’t Loras but coffee was just coffee and she was determined not to let things go to her head.

“Good. See you at ten?”

“You bet. Shall I wear my headdress?” she teased, giving her head a little bob.

“Nah, I’m allergic to feathers,” he said as he flicked yet another one off her shoulder that had come loose.

 

* * *

 

 

Coffee together on the nights they were both working soon became a thing. When they got off, they’d head to the coffee shop in the hotel and sit and drink and talk. Sansa would be in her street clothes and sneakers then and all that face paint she had to wear on stage would be scrubbed off and she’d have her hair down or sometimes up in a ponytail. And Jon thought she looked amazingly beautiful just like that. Sure, she was hot in her feathers and sequins and heels but he preferred her this way.

“So, there’s finally an opening at that studio I told you about,” she said as she worked a crossword puzzle while they finished up their coffee.

“Which one?” he asked, suddenly feeling down and out in Las Vegas.

She’d mentioned two studios; one in Vegas, and one back in Utah. He wanted her to get the studio job. It was what she wanted and he wanted her to be happy and teach dance and get out of the casino if she liked. He hoped Sansa would get everything she wanted out of life. She was terrific and she deserved nothing but the best. But…he really hoped she’d stay in Vegas and he’d miss her at the Lion a great deal either way.

“That one on Rainbow.” _Ah, still in Vegas then_ , he thought with relief. “I don’t know if I’ll get it,” she sighed.

“It’ll be their loss if they don’t hire you,” he said. _And mine if I don’t man up and ask you out_. “Hey, listen...”

“Jon!” a familiar voice called. He turned around to find Tyrion Lannister standing behind them. He had an unaccountably uncomfortable look on his face. The man in charge never looked uncomfortable…ever. “I’m glad I caught you. I know you’re already off but I needed to ask a favor…kind of a big favor.”

“Uh…okay,” Jon said skeptically. Tyrion didn’t ask for ‘favors.’ Tyrion was the boss. He just told you what to do.

“Excellent. My nephew, Joffrey, is coming out from Jersey for a few weeks to learn the ropes here.”

“So, you want me to show him around?” Jon asked, thinking this didn’t sound like a big deal.

“Yes, show him around, teach him about the management side of the casino and how we treat our guests…but mostly I want you to keep an eye on the little shit. He’s Cersei’s oldest and a complete brat. Make sure he doesn’t run off any of my employees or guests, alright?”

 _But don’t make an enemy of him doing so or his mother will make your life miserable and you’ll probably lose your job_ …that was the unspoken part of this favor, Jon was nearly certain.

“Okay then.”

“Miss Stark,” Tyrion said next looking at Sansa, “you were lovely tonight on stage.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lannister.”

Tyrion looked at them both for a minute and a small smirk formed on his mouth. “Well…I’ll leave you to your coffee.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Who’s that?” Jon asked Yaya when he saw the young man with blond hair chatting up Sansa the next night.

“That’s Tyrion’s nephew, Joffrey.”

Jon headed over to introduce himself since he’d been tasked with keeping an eye on him. He walked up and caught Sansa’s grateful expression to see him. He stood by waiting for an appropriate moment to speak but Joffrey apparently had a lot to say to Sansa.

“So, as I was saying…the showgirls at my mother’s place are mostly dogs. Leave it to my uncle to find all the beauties out here though. For all his shortcomings…get it? Shortcomings?” Joffrey snickered to himself for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, he’s always had an eye for a nice piece…for beauty. So, you wanna grab a bite with me tonight? You can show me around the town, babe, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he said leering at Sansa. “Oh,” he said noticing Jon when he heard Jon’s huff. “Did you need something?”

“Your uncle asked me to show your around, Mr. Baratheon,” Jon said. “I’m Jon Tar-”

“Yeah, I know my way around casinos pretty well, slick. My mother’s let me hang out at hers for the past year. But you know, I’ve not found the bar here yet. Maybe you could fetch me a scotch,” he finished with a smirk.

Jon actually laughed in his face which in retrospect might have determined right then how well they were going to get along. “I’m not here to fetch your drinks, _Joffrey_ ,” he said with a firm though polite voice. The boy’s eyebrows crept upward as he continued, “but I’d be more than happy to have one brought to you when we’re done tonight. However, your uncle said you were here to learn the business and I was to show you around. So, first lesson: we don’t drink while we’re…”

“Is this guy serious?” he asked Sansa.

“Um…yes. Please excuse me for a minute, Mr. Baratheon. Jon, there was a matter I needed to address with you if you wouldn’t mind,” she said beseechingly as Jon was trying not to bristle too visibly.

“Yeah…sure thing, doll. I’ll be around later to collect you,” Joffrey said in a smarmy tone before he sauntered off.

“I didn’t actually say I’d go with you anywhere,” Sansa muttered under her breath.

“What a dick,” Jon said. “What?! He is,” Jon laughed after Sansa smacked his arm. “So, what’d you need me for?” he asked her next.

“I need you to _not_ get yourself canned over that little shit,” she said.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t even come close to losing my temper with him...”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” he conceded. “So, there’s still hope that shithead and I will be best pals in a few days. Okay, it’s not likely,” he said to her incredulous look. “Second of all, if Tyrion would really fire me over a little ass munch like that, nephew or not, I’m better off working somewhere else anyway.” Sansa started smiling so he plowed ahead, “And third of all…and most importantly, none of you ladies are his personal escort service and I won’t have him acting like it. Where’re Bronn and Sandor anyway? I thought it was their job to keep the creeps away.”

“They keep the guest creeps away…not the grandson-of-the-owner creeps, I think.”

“Well, if he comes back around, you’ve got plans tonight.”

“I do?”

“Yeah…coffee with me. I can come by and check on you later if you like. I don’t want him to bother you.”

“That’s okay. Yes to coffee but you don’t need to worry. I can say ‘no’ with the best of them. But thank you, Jon. It’s nice to be reminded of what your kind looks like once in a while. I see so few of you here.”

“What kind?” he asked.

“Gentlemen,” she answered as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

“What did you think?” she asked.

“I think I need to stop smoking so I can keep up with you,” he laughed as he was doubled over and panting from her aerobics class.

They’d run into each other at the gym the week before not realizing until then that she worked at the same gym where he belonged. Sansa had invited him to join her dance-fit class. She had really worked hard to hide her giggles throughout as Jon tried to keep up with the rest of the class, many of whom were in their 70s. But her old folks were used to all the steps as Sansa went through the same moves three days a week with many of them and Jon didn’t show a natural inclination for rhythm and dance…not that she cared. His body was well-muscled and he was very fit. He just wasn’t very good at sweating to the oldies.

“Quit smoking? Now, that would be an excellent idea. How about I buy you a smoothie at the juice bar to make up for exhausting you?” she teased.

“As long as it’s filled with more sugar than vegetables, that sounds terrific.”

They sat down with their smoothies and Jon asked about the studio job. She was still waiting for word but she appreciated how he seemed to genuinely care. Just as she appreciated most things about him. He was kind and funny…and hot as fuck. She knew she was heading into dangerous territory quickly when it came to Jon…head-over-heels-mad-about-you territory. She didn’t know if she could stop herself…or if she wanted to stop herself. She just didn’t want to fuck it up.

She asked how he was doing and he mumbled that he was fine. She knew that wasn’t exactly true and gave him a look that said as much. Joffrey had been a pain in everyone’s ass for the past three weeks and she knew Jon was dealing with the brunt of it. He was stressed. It wasn’t that Mr. Lannister didn’t help at all…it’s just that he preferred avoiding his nephew as much as possible and letting Jon deal with him. The couple of times Tyrion had stepped in, he and Joffrey had gotten into shouting matches and, while Tyrion’s put-downs were always on target and made Joffrey’s ‘I’ll tell Mother’ sound all that much more pathetic, it wore Tyrion down and he’d be ready to hide out for a day or three after a row.

They left the gym and said they’d see each other at work that night. Sansa went home to change and then was surprised when Jon called her unexpectedly. Once they’d both said hello, she waited for him to speak as he had called her.

“So, Stark…” he began.

After a full ten seconds of nothing further from him, she decided a prompt was in order. “Yes, Targaryen…”

He laughed and said, “I should’ve done this at the gym but I’m shit at asking girls out face-to-face. I get all tongue-tied and embarrassed and stress out about how I’ll react if they shoot me down. My friends all say I’m a broody fuck that sulks when a girl says no and I figured you’d be better off not seeing that.”

"So, you’re saying this is going smoother than it would in person?”

“Believe it or not…yes,” he said. “Okay, here it goes. Sansa…would-you-like-to-go-out-with-me-sometime?” He rattled it off like he was an auctioneer and Sansa had to smother her laugh to spare his feelings.

“Yes, Jon,” she replied.

“Really?”

“No, I’m shitting you.” Silence. “That was a joke, Targaryen! Yes, I’d be delighted to go out with you.”

“Tonight maybe? Nah…fuck. I guess, that’s kind of sudden plus, we’re both working. How about tomorrow night?” Sansa didn’t try to hide her laughter now but she was pretty sure he could take it at this point.

“Tomorrow night,” she agreed. “ _If_ we can still have coffee tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

 

* * *

 

 

**The Night Before the Morning After**

 

He’d done it. He’d asked her out. _Seven weeks…it only took you seven weeks, Jon_. Hardly the quickest he’d made a move on a girl he liked but it felt right somehow to wait with Sansa. He wanted to be sure because he knew he was already falling pretty hard for her. And he _really_ didn’t want to fuck up.

Sansa was special. She deserved the very best. He planned to take her out somewhere nice for dinner and chose Picasso’s based on it’s fine-dining reputation and it’s view of the Bellagio’s famous fountains. Sansa was romantic and he thought she might like that. _Great place for a first kiss, too, if I’m lucky_. Then, he started freaking out that it would be too much for a first date and he’d freak her out.

He called Ros and asked her opinion. “Don’t overthink it, Targaryen. She is special so take her somewhere nice and knock her socks off…and the rest of her clothes while you’re at it. The best I can tell…it’s been a while if you know what I mean.”

“Uhhh, thanks…I think.”

 _Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it…right. I’ve still got tonight to get through first anyway_.

Joffrey was a pain in the ass and a complete jerk to anyone and everyone that had the misfortune to cross his path but he’d left Sansa alone since she’d shot him down that first night. He seemed to delight in following Sandor around and bragging to him about stupid shit he’d done which was weird because most people took one look at Sandor and were ready to run away…until they got to know him. And the big guy was not the most patient of men and Jon was just waiting with secret glee for the day when Sandor finally told the little shit to go fuck himself. Of course, there was a good possibility that Jon might say it to him first... _and be looking for a new job by the morning_.

Jon was passing by the showgirls' dressing room and trying to keep his mind from wandering into too many lusty daydreams about Sansa when he heard a scream. He burst into the dressing room to find Joffrey holding Ros roughly by the wrists and shaking her while shouting some very obscene things. He didn’t think really. He didn’t have to think to cross the room and punch the little fucker right in the mouth.

“You alright?” he asked Ros.

“Yeah…thanks, Jon. Sandor and Bronn had to go take care of some assholes that had come backstage without permission and this little prick was in here waiting for me…or one of us anyway.”

“You are so fired, Targaryen!” Joffrey shouted. “Just wait till I tell my mother. I didn’t do anything to that whore and she’s…”

“Shut up before I hit you again,” Jon said with icy rage as he stuck his finger right in Joffrey’s face.

Joffrey might be a stupid shit and a creep but he didn’t appear to be in a hurry to get hit again. He fled the dressing room, presumably to call his mommy. _Or his grandfather_ , Jon thought with a sigh. He had Ros come with him while he went to find Bronn and Sandor…before he went to face Tyrion.

 _That went surprising well_ , he thought half an hour later. He’d been sent home for the night but Tyrion said it was more for form and that he didn’t think Jon had too much to worry about considering what Ros had said. He’d seen Joffrey leaving while holding a pack of ice to his mouth with Sandor chuckling to himself as he walked him out of the casino.

He went to the breakroom to grab his backpack and there was Sansa. She was wearing a black mini-dress. Not her usual after work attire…and it was early for that anyway.

“Hey,” he said. “You off already?” he asked taking off his tie and tossing it in his bag.

“Yeah...I told Tyrion I wasn’t feeling well.”

Jon did a double-take because for someone who wasn’t feeling well, Sansa was certainly looking well. More than well.

“You…you look really nice.” She did. Her long red hair was down, all brushed out and sleek and shiny, and her lips were red. Her creamy skin and the black dress completed the look. “You got a hot date?” he asked next, trying to joke around but suddenly feeling unsure of himself. _She looks like she’s got a date…and our date’s tomorrow night_.

“I do,” she said in a low and… _sexy_ voice. “Someone’s taking me for coffee,” she finished with a smile.

 _Oh, good…it’s me. Yay, me!_ “Oh, great,” he smiled, relaxing at once. “Shall we then?”

He picked up his bag but Sansa walked over and took it from him. She laid it on the floor. Then, she walked to the door…and locked it.

“But first, there’s something else I want,” she purred right before she kissed him.

His eyes closed just as her lips met his…slow and soft at first and then more intently drawing a groan from Jon. She fisted her hands in his dress shirt to pull him closer as he brought his hands up from his sides and slid them into her silky hair. They kissed for several minutes and Jon felt like he’d surely died and gone to Heaven. And that was before she got down on her knees, grinning up at him as she unzipped his pants.

 _This is not really happening_ , he thought at first. _Shit like this never happens to me. This is not…unnnn…oh, fuck. Maybe it is happening_.

“Sansa,” he moaned looking down at her sucking him. “If this is a dream, would you please not… _uhhh_ …tell me…oh, God…until later?” She didn’t answer but hummed around his cock and continued. “Sansa, love…can you…fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to say this but can you stop for a second?”

She looked up at him in confusion. “Don’t you want this, Jon?”

“I do…oh, honey, trust me, I really, really do but I just want to make sure...I mean, do you really want…”

“Yes, I do…now stop talking so much, Targaryen,” she said then and returned to what she’d been doing.

“Yes, Miss Stark,” he said with a grin, prompting her to smack his ass while her eyes twinkled with mischief.

 _If this is dream, I really don’t want to wake up…Ever. Again_.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa couldn’t recall a night like this… _because I’ve never had a night like this_. After they’d finished in the breakroom, she’d remembered she’d left her purse in the dressing room. The girls were on stage for a show and, when Jon figured they had a good ten minutes, he’s nudged her to sit down on the sofa there and spread her legs. His warm hands slid up her thighs to claim her underwear and then he’d eaten her out with relish. Bronn was standing outside the dressing room when they came out and smirked at them both. _We didn’t even lock the fucking door!_ Never in her life would Sansa Stark have imagined doing either thing they’d done in the casino…at any job. _We could’ve been caught and_ _fired! Or filmed and posted on the internet!_

For all her surprise at her choices the past thirty minutes, she couldn’t say she regretted anything so far. She’d been falling for Jon for a while now. Sure, they’d just met less than two months ago. Did that mean they couldn’t have a night of passion together before they even officially had a date? She was young and single, he was young and single. She wanted him, he wanted her. _It’s not like we’re getting married, right?_

Okay, so Jon standing up to Joffrey on Ros’s behalf and decking the asshole probably played a role in her decision to blow him in the breakroom but she couldn’t help it. She was turned on by the thoughts of the growly, protective Jon that Ros had described to her after she’d left him with Tyrion and found Sansa in the dressing room. _I wish I could’ve seen him like that. Well, maybe it’s best I didn’t. I might’ve pounced on him there in front of witnesses._ Instead, she’d told Ros she was going out with Jon and asked if she had something she could borrow to wear besides her jeans and t-shirt.

The car sex had been hot but then the Bellagio had been magical. The fountains just made her smile like a little kid and Jon stood there holding her hand and watching her watch the dancing water. Then, they’d hit the casino. Jon’s hand at the small of her back as she rolled the dice, his exuberance matching her own as she started winning, started getting hot with the dice, the other people gathering around and cheering for her…it was easy to see how people got addicted to that feeling. Jon’s firm, full lips on her when she’d win and him calling for drinks.

She’d cashed in and they’d headed to the bar and… _he said he loved me_.

She’d laughed in her nervousness and giddy excitement from the sex, the alcohol and the gaming…the sheer happiness of being with him. She didn’t think about it seriously at the time. And then they’d gotten more intoxicated.

They were riding in the uber and she was singing Elvis. She’d discovered during her college days that she liked to sing Elvis while intoxicated. _Jail House Rock, Little Less_ _Conversation, Hound Dog_ ; _those are usually my go-to Elvis songs_.

But in the car, she’d sang “Viva Las Vegas” and they’d started talking about the stuff all the tourists did.

“We could go to the Grand Canyon,” Jon had said.

“At 11PM?” she queried with a raised brow.

“We could get tattoos!” Jon said excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to…”

“I’m petrified of needles,” she said soberly…well, sort of soberly. She switched to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” next and he’d said it.

“We could go get married!”

“Oh, Jon…really?”

“Yes, I’m crazy about you, Stark. Let’s get married!”

The ceremony had taken surprisingly little time to arrange and carry out. _Two drunk people show up singing Elvis and wanting to get married…sure, let’s marry them!_

Late that night (or early that morning) they’d got a room at the Mandarin Oriental. Sansa didn’t remember the ride from Graceland to there but she remembered pulling wads of cash out for the suite and Jon shaking his head and paying for the room with his card. But there were a few things she remembered. As they got into the room, Jon pulled off her dress eagerly before stripping in record time and burying himself in her as she moaned and wrapped her legs around him.

And she could remember doing it a second time with her on top…and then him from behind. She also remembered Jon urging her to drink lots of water to help with their inevitable hangovers. And she recalled something else.

Just before they’d fallen asleep, he’d pulled her up close, making her his little spoon, and said oh, so sweetly, “I love you, Sansa…I love you, my wife.”

“I love you, too,” she’d whispered back right before sleep took her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Can't Help Falling in Love"-Elvis Presley
> 
> (Yes, Tubbylita...I had to include it after you mentioned it last chapter!)


	3. The Morning After and Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa try to figure out what to do and what the other one wants. Good thing they've got friends.

He got it. He did. It was a shock. It was not what they’d intended. They’d totally fucked up the normal order of things. FUBAR. He understood. He just wished she wasn’t taking it quite _this_ hard.

For five agonizing minutes, he’d stood there feeling impotent, helpless and pathetic as she crumpled on the bed and sobbed. She was crying her little eyes out and Jon felt more wretched and gutted than he ever had in his entire life.

“Sansa…” he said at last, reaching for her. He wanted to touch her face, her hand, whatever part of her she’d be okay with him touching. He just wanted to comfort her and see her smile again.

“What’ll I tell my parents?” she asked, looking up with those blue eyes that were even bluer if that were possible as she cried.

“I don’t know but it’s not like we can’t…”

“And your mom,” she said, gesturing towards him before breaking down into heaving sobs once more.

_Oh, fuck…that’s not a phone call I’d enjoy making. ‘Hey, Mom…it’s your beloved baby boy and only child, here. I got married last night to a woman you’ve never met. Sorry, you missed it. We were drunk and did it on a whim…after we did it. Your grandchildren will be beautiful though if they look anything like her.’_

“My mom will…uh, Sansa, can we go have some coffee? I need some caffeine to talk about this logically.” _Plus, being away from a bed and full clothed would really help_.

She was in her mini-dress and he knew she wasn’t wearing any panties since they were still in his pants pocket. He had only managed to throw on his boxers since she’d come out of the bathroom and started sobbing her heart out…because she was married to him now. Jon’s brain knew they needed to do some talking but Jon’s cock just wanted back inside Sansa again.

“I just always pictured my wedding a certain way, you know. I dreamed about it,” she whimpered.

“I imagine lots of girls do,” he said heavily.

“And, I gotta be honest…I never pictured an Elvis impersonator being part of my ceremony.”

“I know. Me, either.” _Not that I’ve thought much about a wedding until now_.

“I mean, since I was six and saw ‘Cinderella’ the first time…I think that started it. I pictured this fairy tale wedding. And even when I saw that live-action version a couple of years back…you know, the one with that hot as fuck actor playing the prince...”

“Uh…I must’ve missed that one. Sansa…”

“Sure, I changed it around over the years. Famous rock band got replaced by a string quartet. Scarlett O’Hara swoopy ball gown became a sleeveless, mermaid dress. But one thing…one thing,” she said getting louder as she pointed to mid-air, “never changed! And do you know what that was, Jon?”

 _You’d be marrying a man you love?_ “No, what was it?”

“My family was there!” she said in a voice that cracked into a whine and broke his heart.

“Sansa, love…we can just get a…”

“Don’t say it!”

“Sansa…”

“I don’t…Just don’t say that word right now! Fuck, I need coffee.”

They sat in silence drinking coffee at the poolside café. They’d not spoken for a good twenty minutes and Sansa looked like she was ready to bolt at any second. _Say something,_ _asshole. Try and make it up to her_.

“Sansa, this is all my fault. I made the suggestion and…”

“It’s okay. It’s not all your fault. I agreed. We were both drunk,” she sighed and rubbed her temples before looking over at him with a sad smile. “I know it was all just a big mistake and we can just get it annulled, right?” she said dejectedly.

 _‘All a big mistake’…harsh. But I guess that’s what it was_. “Yeah. And this is Vegas. Easy to get hitched or unhitched. I’ll check with…uh, I can’t say I know what the fuck to do to annul it right off the top of my head.”

“I’ll bet Tyrion would,” she smiled, thinking of his many ex-wives no doubt. “And I believe we fully consummated the marriage last night so I’m not sure ‘annul’ is the right term,” she teased.

He liked seeing her smile at last and he chuckled. “Yeah, I have a feeling Tyrion could fix us right up with a quickie divorce.” She winced at that word and he felt a tugging at his heart. _I don’t want a divorce. But that is bat-shit crazy because she doesn’t want to be married to me and we’ve only known each other seven weeks and…God, I love her_. “If it’s what you want…I’ll do whatever you want, Sansa.”

“It’s not that I… It’s probably just for the best, Jon. Right?”

He nodded and said, “Of course,” turning to look vacantly at the pool because he suddenly wanted to cry.

They caught a cab to The Golden Lion and he offered to drive her home. They climbed in his car and Jon immediately noticed the lingering scent. _My car smells like sex…sex with Sansa. I am never getting the interior of this car cleaned again._

“What about tonight?” she asked as he pulled into a parking space at her apartment building.

“I don’t think I can get it annulled that quickly,” he responded.

“No, I meant our…plans.”

“Our date?” he squeaked. “Do you…Sansa, would you really still want to go out with me?”

“Yes, Targaryen, I still want to go out with you.” His heart ached and filled and burst within his chest all at once. A cacophony of thoughts, emotions and melodies ran unchecked through his mind. “Unless you don’t want to go out with me now,” she added after a full minute of him sitting there trying to remember how to breathe in and breathe out.

“Sorry, just caught off guard there. I would love to go out with you, Stark,” he said before amending it. “I mean, Mrs. Targaryen.” He’d said it in a teasing tone, waggling his eyebrows at her, hoping to make her smile. But the initially startled look on her face made him fear he’d fucked up majorly yet again. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She gave a tentative smile and said, “But it’s true. I’m Mrs. Jon Targaryen, aren’t I? Sansa Targaryen…Sansa Stark Targaryen.”

She repeated it a few more times, testing it out. He loved the way it sounded, especially rolling off her tongue. And then, she laughed. It came on her suddenly, like a case of the hiccups or something else unexpected. She snorted and covered her face. Then, she snickered and one, short guffaw erupted. She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked over at him like she’d just told a dirty joke. Then, she threw her head back and laughed. Tears were leaking from her eyes but she wasn’t sad now. He sat there smiling at her, completely infatuated, until he couldn’t resist joining her any longer.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa stood outside the apartment trying to catch her breath. Jon had nearly kissed her dizzy when they finally stopped laughing. But, as she watched him drive away, the worry returned and an aching desire to tell him not to go. _I love him. Does he love me? He said it last night. I’m positive that he meant it but would he be willing…No, that’s crazy! What_ _guy wants to be caught in a marriage like that? He suggested a divorce quick enough_.

She turned the key in the lock and drew a deep breath. If Yaya or Ros were home, she planned on keeping it cool. Sure, this was the first time she’d come home of a morning in the same clothes they’d last seen her in the previous evening but she could be cool, right? _I’ll wave brightly at them and head straight to my room. I need to get Ros’s dress_ _cleaned, too_.

Ros knew she had a date with Jon. They both knew about Sansa’s burgeoning-crush-turned-desire-turned-love for Jon but she was confident she could hold her head high and avoid any inquisitions over the matter from her roommates.

She walked in and froze. They were both sitting on the couch and both heads whipped around simultaneously to look at her. Two sets of eyes took in her appearance and narrowed followed by smirks immediately forming on their lips. _And, I’m walking on down the hall_ …She didn’t even make it five feet towards the bedroom.

“Hallelujah! Somebody got laid!” Ros shouted. “That’s always been my lucky dress!”

“Oh, honey! Just where do you think you’re headed?” Yaya asked.

“My room,” she said as huge grin spread across her face.

“Uh-un! Get your ass over here and spill!”

Sansa was not typically a girl to gossip about her sex life…well, not _too_ much…but her friends were determined that she would at least share a little. And, it was a bit hard not to divulge some since she actually had some friends to share with here and especially after such an extensive drought of anything that would’ve been worth sharing. _And there’d be plenty worth telling from last night if I was inclined._

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” Ros squealed as Sansa glossed over the sex-capades of the night. “And, you can keep the dress,” she added. “Targaryen is yummy but I’ll let you enjoy any souvenirs he may have left…”

“Ros! You’re terrible!” Sansa shrieked as she flushed a dozen shades of red.

“So, when are you seeing him again? Outside of work?” Yaya asked.

“Tonight.”

“That’s terrific, sweetie.”

“Yeah…well, there’s only one problem.”

Sansa didn’t think she’d ever seen two jaws drop so far, so quickly at the exact same moment.

“What are you going to do?” Ros asked.

“Get divorced, I guess, and see where we go from here. It’s silly but it makes me sad, you know. My mom and dad are still crazy for each other and I hoped I’d be like them. I always dreamed when I tied the knot it would be forever. But then…I didn’t expect to be drunk and marrying a guy I’d just fucked for the first time and not even officially dated yet.”

“Who says you two couldn’t wait a bit on the divorce? It only takes a few days to process an uncontested divorce here in Nevada. You could give it a little time and see…” Yaya said.

“He wants it.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words but he was so freaked when he remembered this morning and started shouting for me to come out of the bathroom. He suggested it and he said he’d figure out what we needed to do.” Both of her friends looked pissed then. “Don’t be angry at him. He…well, I kind of flipped out. I really flipped out and was crying and talking about how I’d envisioned my wedding. I’m sure I didn’t give him the impression I was willing to try either.”

“Are you willing to try, Sansa? Really willing?” Ros asked.

“Maybe…Is that completely nuts?”

“Not if you care enough about him.”

“It doesn’t matter. He wants the divorce. He’s probably being far more realistic than I am. What if suggesting we try and make of go of it just pushes him away? I don’t want to lose him before I’ve really even had him.”

“But he wants to go out tonight, right?”

“Yes. Well, actually I mentioned it first…but I’m pretty sure he was happy about it. I think.”

They both looked at each other and didn’t say anything else. Sansa rose from the couch feeling bereft and pleading fatigue. She fled to her room. She pulled off the mini-dress and pulled on her pajamas and, after taking a couple of ibuprofen, laid down. She cried quietly into her pillow…tears of sadness at the thoughts of losing something special with Jon before it even began, and tears for what might’ve been. Worn out and drained of tears at last, she finally fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon stood under the shower and let the hot water revive him. It helped with the sore muscles, except the big one beating in his chest. That one was still hurting. _Snap out of it!_ _She still wants to go out with you. She just doesn’t want to be married is all. Can you blame her? This is fucking insane to be so upset over getting a divorce. The odds are 50-50_ _even for couples that have known each other for years. What would your chances be?_

He was exhausted from the night and lack of sleep and anxiety over what to do. And, he’d had more sex in the past twelve hours than he had in the past two years…or longer. It’d been a bit of a dry spell to say the least and he was tired. He got out of the shower and was drying off when he heard his phone ringing. Praying that it might be Sansa calling to tell him she’d changed her mind and wanted to remain Sansa Stark Targaryen…and fearing that she was calling to tell him she was about to jump off a building and it was all his fault for destroying her girlhood dreams, he raced for the phone. But it wasn’t Sansa.

“Hey, Yaya,” he answered.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Targaryen. What are you doing with my girl?”

“I…she told you.”

“Yes, she told us!”

 _“Tell him to stop being a dick!”_ he could hear Ros saying in the background.

“I’m not being a dick. I’m trying to make her happy. That’s all I want, I swear!”

“Then why are you pushing for a divorce?”

“I’m not! She doesn’t want to be married to me, Yaya.”

“He says, she doesn’t want to be married to him.” Ros huffed in the background and he could hear them mumbling to each other. “Are you both that fucking clueless? You know nothing, Jon Targaryen.”

“Oh, thanks for that! You coming over to pull out some fingernails next? I’ve had a pretty fucked up morning, you know! I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything!”

“God, you are both so adorably dense sometimes. It’s obvious to the rest of us that you two are in love, and by the rest of us I mean practically every fucking employee at The Lion, from Tyrion to the coffee shop crew that swear you both spend an hour making googly eyes at each other over that vile crap they call coffee five nights a week.”

“Googly eyes?!  Never in my life have I made...”

“My girl wants you, Targaryen. She loves you,” Yaya said in a softer voice. “Now, maybe she didn’t necessarily want to be married like this and so soon but she loves you and wants you. I know, I know…it’s not ideal but why not give it a chance?”

“ _She_ doesn’t want to be married to _me_ ,” he repeated. “And I fucked up all her dreams of a fantasy wedding. Her family wasn’t there…and neither was my mom.”

“Jon, this is Vegas. You can renew your vows at a little chapel with the family there or you can go whole-hog and have a lush ceremony and all that shit in front of a thousand guests if you like once you’re sure it’s worth continuing.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be sure _before_ you get married, Yaya?”

“Yeah, you got the cart before the horse, boy…big time. But that doesn’t mean…wait, are you serious about my girl or not? ‘Cause if you’re not, I’m just going to come over and beat your ass and tell her to get that divorce pushed through immediately.”

“Yaya…I love her,” he sighed. “I adore her and I’d do anything to make her happy. I just don’t want to tie her down if this is something she doesn’t want.”

More whispering on the other side and then Ros was on the line. “Jon, I’ve not known Sansa much longer than you but I really believe she wants this to work…and Yaya is nodding emphatically next to me.”

“You didn’t see her this morning!”

“Okay, she freaked out. You did, too, I’m betting. You didn’t see her here when she talked about getting a divorce. She was sad. And, she was crying in her room after she left us.”

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “I want this, too…even though it’s probably completely fucking insane.”

“What are you planning for tonight?” He laid out his plans which included some of the things they’d done last night anyway. “Scratch that. You need to do something different. Something special. Let her know how you feel about her. And then, you need to propose.”

“Propose? We’re already…”

“Are you listening to me? Do I need to send Yaya over?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good. Now, I’m not telling you the details. That’s all on you. I’m just giving you the broad strokes here. Now, grab a pen and take some notes.”

Jon did as instructed, wondering if there was any chance this would work and any hope that she’d really want to stay married to him. He hoped so. He really did.

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearly 3PM when Sansa awoke. She showered again just because she needed it to be revived and then ate a small meal, not knowing what Jon had in mind for their date and then changed into something she hoped would work for her first date with her soon-to-be ex-husband.

She stared at her closet for nearly thirty minutes before choosing a simple, dark blue dress. It hung to her knees and had a loose, flowing skirt with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It wasn’t too fancy, wasn’t too plain. She opted for flats tonight and left her hair down. She was putting in her earrings just as there was a knock at the door. Ros and Yaya were both working tonight so she answered the door.

“Hey,” he said and Sansa gasped. He had a dozen red roses in his hands.

“Jon…are those for me?”

“They are.”

He leaned forward uncertainly before giving her a quick kiss. She smiled and sniffed her flowers. _Roses…not bad, Targaryen_. She took them to the kitchen to put them in a vase. She could hear him moving around the apartment behind her but she didn’t look back at him. Her stomach was all aflutter. She hoped he wouldn’t mention filing paperwork tonight. That could wait until tomorrow. She didn’t want their date spoiled with talk of their divorce…or her throwing herself in his arms and begging him to reconsider.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely,” she said returning to the living room. She leaned in to kiss his cheek and felt shy…like a girl kissing a boy she liked in middle school for the first time. _You sucked his cock 24 hours ago, Sansa! Now, you act like you’re 12 again? Geez, girl_.

He was wearing khakis and a soft blue dress shirt. His cologne was light and pleasing but masculine. His hair was its usual riot of curls but she had always liked his hair. _Not too fancy, not too plain._

“They’re not as lovely as you,” he said and it took her moment to realize he was talking about the flowers. He shook his head and laughed then. “I feel ridiculous saying romantic shit, Sansa. I’ve always sucked at it.”

She snickered and said, “Just be you, Jon. That’s the guy I…I’ve always liked.”

“Alright then,” he said with an easy grin. “So, the night is young but time is wasting. Grab your bag and shake that sweet ass, Mrs. Targaryen. We’ve got places to go.”

“Where will we go?” she asked, secretly thrilled to hear him call her Mrs. Targaryen if even for a little while.

“Not a casino,” was all he said.

 

They cruised down the Strip and Sansa was smiling from ear to ear. She loved the bright lights. It was something she’d miss if she ever left Vegas.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as they left the Strip behind and headed towards downtown.

“You’ll see.”

He pulled up out front and parked in the same spot she’d always used. The ‘For Lease’ sign was still in the window.

“This is where I worked before I started at…”

“I know. Come inside,” he said. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door.

“How do you have a key?”

“My buddy out here…”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. He’s a realtor. I called him earlier today and asked about seeing if he could get me in here tonight for a little while.” It was a bit musty inside and he led her down the darkened hall by her hand to the classroom where she’d taught. He pulled out his phone to give a little light. There were candles sitting everywhere. “Just a sec,” he said, pulling out a lighter before he started lighting them one by one.

Once they were glowing and reflecting off the mirrored wall creating even more light, he pulled out a small set of speakers from under a sheet lying in the corner hooking them up to his phone.

“Okay, first date time," he said clapping his hands together after he put the lighter away.  "Sansa, I can’t dance but I would love to dance with you. Could you teach me a few steps so we can share a dance?”

“Yes,” was all she could say, feeling her heart swell with love for this man. He turned on the music. _Elvis...of course_.

“Slow songs, alright?”

“Perfect.”

She showed him how to hold her and how to sway. When he picked that up quick enough, she taught him the steps to waltz. Slowly, they moved around the room to “Love Me Tender.” Jon had to focus on his moves but occasionally he’d look up at her with a smile and the question in his eye of how he was doing.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” she said. It might take some work but he wasn’t bad for a beginner.

Sharing this thing that she loved with Jon, teaching him to dance, was more special than anything she could’ve imagined they’d do tonight. But, he wasn’t done with her. He pulled out more surprises from the closet, a cooler containing a bottle of wine and two glasses and even an assortment of things to nibble on. He laid out a blanket on the floor and they sat together bathed in candlelight. They talked as easily as they ever had. Only occasionally would the elephant in the room encroach on Sansa’s thoughts, making her stomach tighten up. Jon laid back on an elbow next to her and she encouraged him to lay his head in her lap so she could play with his hair and feed him bites of fruit or cheese with her fingers. He’d nip at her fingers and then kiss them.

“Is this a typical first date with Jon Targaryen?” she asked while feeding him a grape.

“No…this is special because my date is very special.”

“Do you usually kiss on a first date?” she asked next.

“I’ll kiss _you_ ,” he responded. He sat up and moved close enough to hold her cheek with one hand before closing the distance and meeting her lips with his. It was a soft and sweet peck. It left Sansa wanting more and she reached for him. “Hang on. There’s one more song I wanted to dance to with you first.”

He got up and pulled her to her feet and then tapped on his phone. Al Green replaced Elvis.

 

_‘I, I’m so in love with you_

_Whatever you want to do_

_Is all right with me_

_Cause you make me feel so brand new_

_And I want to spend my life with you’_

 

She knew this song well…“Let’s Stay Together.”

“Jon?”

“We’ve had a first date and first dance but there are a million other firsts I’d like to have with you, Sansa. So here it goes…eight weeks ago, I didn’t even know you but, the moment we met, I knew I wanted to get to know you. You’re gorgeous so maybe that’s not a surprise but it’s way more than your beauty. A couple of weeks later, you became my friend. I looked forward to seeing you every night at work. You make me laugh and you’re someone I feel comfortable talking to about nearly anything. For the past few weeks though, I’ve realized my feelings for you were quickly growing beyond friendship and headed towards love. Fools rush in, they say, and maybe I am a fool. But I do love you, Sansa. Two days ago, I’d not even asked you out yet but I had wanted to for a long while. Last night…last night was crazy and some rash decisions were made but I cannot bring myself to regret anything that happened last night. It was the best night of my entire life and I only wished we hadn’t been intoxicated so I could prove to you that I would’ve walked down that aisle sober if it meant I got a shot at being with you for the rest of my life.”

He kneeled next and, when she saw him pull an engagement ring from his pocket, she put her hand to her throat and gaped.

“Sansa Stark Targaryen, will you stay married to me?” She knew her eyes were filling with tears and she was probably wearing the goofiest grin. She nodded slowly and he let out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank, God…I was a nervous wreck about asking that. I had to guess at the size, so I hope it’ll fit. The jeweler says it’s easy to adjust,” he said as he slid it on her finger.

“It fits perfectly.”

“Well then…I guess you’re my Cinderella. I may not be a, and I quote, hot as fuck actor, but I would sure love to be your prince.”

“Yes…a dozen times yes, Jon. You’re plenty hot as fuck, too.”

“Good,” he grinned as they kissed. A hot and passionate kiss this time compared to the sweet peck of earlier and Sansa leaned into him, wanting to be held. He held her so close and it felt so perfect and right. His head tilted to kiss her more deeply and she slid her tongue into his mouth to taste him, pulling a groan of longing from him before he pulled back. “Okay…can’t get too far ahead of ourselves yet. Now, may I have that back?” he asked, pointing to the diamond ring he’d just given her.

“Are you joking, Targaryen?” she asked, snatching her hand away.

“No, seriously…just trust me, okay?” She nodded and reluctantly slid the ring from her finger. “Okay, here comes the next part. And yes, I’m equally nervous about this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two gold bands. One was noticeably smaller but any fool could see what they were and what he meant to do. “Sansa Stark…will you take this fool to be your husband again for as long as you can possibly tolerate him?”

She laughed and said, “I will.”

“Great! Okay, so with this ring, I thee wed…again.”

He slid both the wedding band and the engagement ring back on her left ring finger. She stood there dumbfounded and wondering how badly her mascara was running now. She really didn’t care because she was so happy. Jon cleared his throat and glanced meaningfully at the other, larger band still in his hand. She took it slowly and solemnly. This was important. It might not be anything all that official but it was to them.

“Jon, I love you. I’ve been falling in love with you day by day for weeks now. If we’re fools, let us be fools together.” He smiled and his eyes sparkled in the candlelight. She held up the band and continued, “Alright…my turn. Wait, what’s your middle name?” He rolled his eyes and started chuckling. “Never mind. Jon Targaryen…with this ring, I thee wed…again. Now, kiss your bride.”

 

* * *

 

 

He took her back to his place at long last. He carried Sansa Stark Targaryen over the threshold…and then fucked her against the wall by his front door. It couldn’t be helped. He kissed her as soon as he set her on her feet and one thing led to another. He collected another pair of panties that he didn’t plan to return… _ever_. And, she was as eager to unzip his pants and free his cock as he was to lift her dress up to her hips. He slid inside and knew he never wanted to leave…not just meaning her pussy but her, all of her. He never wanted to leave her and he hoped she’d never want to leave him.

A shamefully small amount of thrusts were needed to have him coming but he’d had the foresight to start stroking her clit immediately at least so that she was crying out his name as he grunted hers.

“Fuck,” he sighed into her hair after he’d spilled. “I’ll try and last longer in the bed.”

“It’s alright,” she replied breathlessly. “Don’t move,” she commanded next as he’d started to slip out and move away. He had her pinned firmly against the wall and he didn’t want to hurt her. “I just want you to hold me another moment,” she said with her hands squeezing his ass and pushing him more firmly up against her once more. He felt it then. She was still fluttering around his cock with the aftershocks from her orgasm.

“I’ll stay here for hours if you like,” he swore.

She laughed and said that wouldn’t be necessary as she was looking forward to having him in the bed next. “But Jon…maybe we could close your front door first?” she asked a moment later.

He looked over his shoulder. Yeah…he’d been that eager. He’d not closed it all the way and it had swung open during the frenzied kisses, the shoving of clothes out of the way, the possessive way he’d pushed her up against the wall and then hurriedly began pounding into her.

“Jesus Christ…I really don’t think straight around you. I only had the one glass of wine.”

“I know,” she laughed. “I hope you’ll never be able to think completely straight around me because I’m not any better.”

They started kissing again but at least he remembered to fully close and lock his front door before they headed to the bedroom for more of their honeymoon.

 

* * *

 

 

Their co-workers at the Casino were happy for them…except Joffrey. But that little shit headed back to Jersey a few days later and, thankfully, Tyrion managed to diffuse any shit-storms that Cersei tried to stir up on her baby boy’s behalf from Jon punching the little fucker. Everyone at work had agreed he got off easy. After all, Sandor could’ve punched him instead.

Sansa got offered the studio job on Rainbow a week after they were married and turned in her notice at The Lion. She would have to admit she’d miss it in a way. Jon had never got to see her perform since he was always working the casino floor when she performed but her last night he’d asked Tyrion if someone could cover for him long enough for him to catch her show. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time and, even with an audience there and the other girls on stage, it made her feel like she was dancing... _and_ _shaking my ass_...just for him.

As a little wedding gift, Ros and Yaya snuck her one of her costumes to keep, one without feathers, the day she moved the remainder of her things from their apartment to Jon’s place. They said it might help keep the fires stoked. Sansa smiled and said they didn’t need any help with that.

Jon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline nearly when she pulled it out of the bag. “Don’t tell on the girls,” she admonished.

“I won’t,” he croaked. “Are you going to…um, keep it?” he asked, swallowing hard and looking a bit tense.

“Yeah, I’ll keep it. You sorry you’re going to miss out on telling all your buddies you’re married to a showgirl?”

“No, I’ll gladly tell them my wife is hot as fuck though. And you’ll always be my showgirl,” he said pulling her in for a kiss.

Yeah, the costume did get put to use for special, command performances once in while much to their delight, especially Jon’s.

Telling their parents had been the most difficult part. Their mothers had cried and her father had been angry but the tears and anger didn’t last long. Once they’d met each other’s families; Jon going home with her for a long weekend to Utah and then her flying to New York with him a month later for a couple of days, it was easy for their parents to see that their kids were in love, no matter how swiftly things had developed.

At the three-month mark, they renewed their vows at her parent’s church in Utah and Jon’s mother flew out to see her son get married. It was a small ceremony but Sansa’ father walked her down the aisle in her sleeveless, mermaid gown. The string quartet might’ve been piped in on the sound system but she was fine with that. Ros and Yaya were bridesmaids along with Sansa’s sister. And her prince, the pit boss, looked handsome in his tux waiting to greet his wife at the altar. Their family and friends wished them well and hoped for the best…and their mothers hoped for grandchildren.

Of course, just because so many people were happy for them doesn’t mean there weren’t plenty of folks at the casino that liked to place odds on their likelihood of making it long-term. But Tyrion refused to bet against them and so did Yaya and Ros.

Bronn offered a bet that if they made it a year he’d pay the winner $500. Jon happily took that bet and was delighted to take the man’s money on their anniversary and squirrel it away to save for his wife’s dream…to open her own dance studio.

When Bronn suggested another bet, $1000 if they made it three years, Jon said, “You’re on and I plan to collect it.”

And when their three-year anniversary rolled around, Jon came to work especially that day even though he was off to collect.

“Figured you’d bring the wife by,” Bronn sighed as he handed over the money while Sandor laughed at his friend’s losses.

“Oh, she wanted to come and rub this in your face but the baby fell asleep on the way over so they’re waiting for me in the car. Did you want to make another wager?” he asked with a smirk as he pocketed the cash.

Bronn shook his head and Jon soon headed back out to his wife and daughter.

“So, we’ve got the day off, I’ve got a pocket full of cash and it’s our anniversary. Where will we go?”

“To the bank to deposit the money and then home. And if this little girl wants to nap a bit longer, I’ve got plans for you, Mr. Targaryen.”

“I love the sound of that, Mrs. Targaryen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric from 'Let's Stay Together' by Al Green.
> 
> And couldn't resist the shout out to "hot as fuck" Richard Madden as the prince in the 2015 version of 'Cinderella.'
> 
> This got longer than originally planned but I hope you enjoyed this addition to my series. The next one will probably be a one-shot. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics from 'Marry You' by Bruno Mars


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